


Stolen

by haylches



Series: Voltron One-Shots [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Comforting Keith (Voltron), Dark, Domestic Violence, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Rescue, Sad Lance (Voltron), Suicidal Thoughts, Where did this come from seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylches/pseuds/haylches
Summary: Keith breaks into a house to steal their money, but when he leaves? Money's the furthest thing from his mind----The boy was staring at him in surprise, but his initial shock quickly turned to glee."Please kill me," he whispered, his eyes wide with excitement.Keith froze.What?
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron)
Series: Voltron One-Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891879
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Stolen

Keith took another step down the imposing hallway. This house was much fancier than any other place he had robbed. It was honestly a little intimidating.

The floorboard beneath him creaked, and he froze. Silence fell heavy in the air, and he slowly continued on.

The owner of the home, a popular meteorologist, slept on the third floor. As long as he stayed quiet, he'd be fine.

He continued to slink through the home, dropping random valuables into his bag. After all his work getting past the security system, he wasn't leaving empty-handed. Creeping through various rooms, his eye caught on a simple door. It was open a crack, but looked like a door not usually used. There were three locks on the inside of the door, peaking Keith's interest. Obviously, the owner wanted to keep people out. That was a good sign in Keith's position, especially when the door was practically begging him to enter.

Slowly, he pushed the door open wide enough to fit through.

Stairs led downward, darkness waiting for him at the bottom. He slowly drew his gun from the hem of his pants. Spooky basements had always scared him, and he felt a little nervous as he studied the narrow space. Taking a deep breath, he stepped down the stairs. He pulled out his flashlight, comforted in the knowledge that the owner was still upstairs.

The light lit up the eerie room, dully illuminating the various objects scattered around. Keith studied the basement, slightly disappointed. There wasn't anything remotely valuable. Why were there so many locks?

He stepped forward, deciding to explore a bit before going back upstairs. Setting his flashlight on a nearby desk, he dug through various boxes and shelves. Nothing was remotely interesting. GIving up, he turned back to face the stairs in defeat.

Before he could step to the stairs, however, his eyes caught on a small crack in the wall. It wasn't any kind of natural crack, that was for sure. It was perfectly straight, reaching from the ground to about eye-level. He frowned, gently running his fingers over the indentation.

He knew what this meant. There was a secret safe in that wall.

Keith grinned. This explained all the locks. Filled with newfound excitement, he poured his energy into finding the trigger. There had to be a way to open the safe; it was just a matter of figuring it out. Running his hands across the shelves surrounding the wall, he suddenly felt a small switch on the underside of a shelf. He pressed the switch.

The wall slowly opened towards him, grinding against the cement floor. Keith winced, glancing at the stairs fearfully.

A light was already on inside the safe, but Keith was confused. It didn't seem as much like a safe as... another room. He slowly drew his gun, creeping forward into the secret room. A single door waited for him at the far end of the room. It was locked, of course.

Keith was a bit frustrated. How many locks did this safe need??

He pulled a pin out of his hair, twisting it around in the lock impatiently.

This better be worth it, he thought to himself. Finally, he got the door unlocked and opened it in excitement.

Lying in the middle of the floor was... a boy.

Keith could only stare in surprise. The young man was tied with rope around his ankles and wrists, his skin red and irritated from the rough material. He wore only a pair of shorts, dirty and torn. Keith couldn't help but notice his protruding ribs, rising like mountains from his tanned skin. He lay cowering on the floor, looking up at Keith as he stepped through the door.

The boy's brown hair framed his face nicely, electric blue eyes piercing Keith from beneath the bangs. 

The boy was staring at him in surprise, but his initial shock quickly turned to glee.

"Please kill me," he whispered, his eyes wide with excitement.

Keith could only stare, stunned. This was not what he had expected to find.

"Wh-What?" Keith stammered, taking a single step back.

"Kill me," the boy repeated, gesturing towards Keith's gun. "Please."

"What-- Why would you want me to kill you?!" Keith exclaimed, staring in disbelief.

"You really want me to answer that question?" the boy asked, raising his eyebrow. Keith didn't reply. He kind of DID want to know, but he wasn't going to push the subject.

"My father hates me," the boy said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Keith could only stand there, morbidly excited for the story to spill.

"He... He's the one who locked me down here. He found out I wasn't straight; that I wasn't normal. He figured that the only way to fix me would be to punish me, so he did. Many times." The boy trailed off, seemingly lost in painful memories.

"What does he do to punish you?" Keith whispered, the words escaping his lips before he could bottle them up.

"He... He beats me. Starves me. Sometimes..." he hesitated, seeming to choke on the words. "Sometimes he does more. Touches me. Makes me touch him." His eyes were glued to the floor.

Keith was shocked. Outraged. Nobody deserved this kind of treatment.

"I also killed my mother," the boy added, his voice shaking. "When I was just a kid. I ran into the street, and she died pushing me out of the road. She was hit by a semi. Her body was run over four times."

"That... That doesn't count as killing," Keith said, finally interrupting the painful story. The boy looked up at him, broken and hurt. "It was only an accident."

"Even if it that were true, it doesn't change anything. I still need to die. It's the only way out." The young man stared at Lance, vulnerable. His eyes were pleading, begging Keith for something that Keith simply couldn't give him.

"I... I can't kill you. It's just not right."

The boy's face fell, tears filling his eyes for the first time.

"Please," he whimpered, a single tear falling to the tile floor. "I can't take any more of this."

Keith stared at the quivering form, shaking his head gently.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, his voice determined. "I'm going to get you out of here."

The boy's head shot up, and he stared at Keith with wide eyes.

Keith reached down, scooping the frail form into his arms. He was painfully light.

"What's your name?" he whispered, stepping lightly across the basement.

"Lance," the boy replied, his voice shaking.

"My name's Keith. We're going to get out of here, Lance."

The young man only nodded, clinging to Keith's black shirt.

"We're going to get out."


End file.
